Page 58 of 1001 Dark Nights: Bundle Forty-Seven

He shrugged. “We see what the guests prefer.”

The woman actually rubbed her hands together with glee. “This is awesome! What do I get when I win?”

“I’ve been in the restaurant industry for years,” he said almost gently. “You should be asking what I get when I win.”

“You may know the industry, but you don’t know your customer, restaurant boy.”

Jameson tried to keep civil. “When I win, you stop giving me a hard time about everything. No more questioning my decisions. I will expect not only your full support, but for you to spread the word about town that Vintage has never been better under my direction.”

He tried not to grin at her horrified expression. “I have to lie?”

“No, you have to tell the truth.”

She ignored him and gave a suffering sigh. “Fine. Thank goodness, I won’t lose.”

“Keep dreaming, flower girl.” He began to walk away but her lilting, velvety voice stroked his ears and made him still.

“When I win, you take Bear.”

Slowly, he cranked his head around. “Excuse me?”

A big ass grin curved her lips. Hands crossed in front of her chest, she practically vibrated with glee. “You heard me. You foster Bear until I can find a home for him.”

He blinked. “I’m in Mac’s house. That’s impossible.”

“No, it’s not. Mac always helps out with fostering animals. In fact, six months ago, he fostered a golden retriever for a few weeks and loved it. He’ll be fully on board.”

The idea was so impossible, he refused to consider it. There was no way he’d be stuck with a slobbering, shedding, giant whining baby who refused to be left alone. He needed his quiet and peace when he left the restaurant. No, it would never happen.

He believed in himself and his skills.

It took all of his expertise not to show his concern. “Fine. It won’t matter anyway.”

She began laughing, and Jameson tried not to shudder. The sound reminded him of victory.

He hurried off with the echoes in his ears.

* * * *

“Hi, folks. Welcome to Vintage. My name is Devon. What can I get you?”

The couple glanced at each other warily. The man wore a reindeer Christmas sweater and a red ball cap that said Let the Festivus Begin! His wife was dressed in black pants, a green blouse, and a brightly colored scarf stitched with wreaths. Her smart gray bob curved under her chin and showed off her dangly silver earrings. They looked like an upper-class couple in for the weekend to see the holiday lights and enjoy the beach town. “Well, we must’ve been mistaken about the bar. We brought our own champagne but I see they’re serving cocktails?” the woman asked.

She swallowed her grin. This was the fourth table disappointed they couldn’t drink the bottle of booze they brought. “That’s right, we got our liquor license. There’s a delicious blood orange mimosa you may enjoy.”

A frown knit the woman’s brow. “I guess. Okay.”

The man gave a smile that deepened the creases around his eyes. “I’ll just have pineapple juice, please. Oh, and can we get the pancake charcuterie platter? We’ll split it.”

Now, she had to try hard not to giggle. The first hour was filled with confused repeat customers who couldn’t understand why the pancakes were gone and two had mentioned the high price of the lobster tacos. “I’m sorry, that’s no longer on the menu.”

The gentleman looked upset. “But it’s our favorite. This is the second time we’ve been here. Can the chef prepare it anyway?”

“I’m very sorry but we can only do what’s on the menu. May I suggest the lobster tacos? It’s a new special and quite popular.”

The woman’s face fell. “Oh. Well, I guess. What do you think, Martin?”

“Did they take away the flatbread too?” he asked with a touch of irritation.

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